Assistance
by JayElem0
Summary: Lisa Cuddy finds a surrogate mother in the oddest place. May have some naughty language and sexiness later, hence the rating.
1. Chapter 1

Set after the episode "Fetal Position". So spoilers for everything after that.

Probably R for naughty language.

I don't own House, M.D. characters or make any money from writing this weird shit.

Review if you like.

* * *

Lisa Cuddy, after several tries at artificial insemination and in vitro, decided to go with a surrogate mother.

She contacted a service, paid an outrageous amount of money and interviewed applicants to be her rented womb. After a dozen women paraded in and out of her living room, she almost gave up hope.

Bridget Dell was sitting in Lisa Cuddy's office, CV in lap. Dr. Cuddy was doing interviews herself for Dr. House's assistant. Bridge knew he was a Diagnostician and the best in his field, which was one reason she was confused that they were hiring outside the hospital, instead of promoting from the nurse's currently on the payroll.

Other reasons for confusion were the hours and the pay scale, which was slightly better than the average nurse's. Granted, Bridget had her Master's and would negotiate up, but the advertised wage was high for the usual nurse.

The door opened and Dr. Cuddy hurried into the office, sitting down behind her desk and smiling.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, I had meeting run over," the Dean of Medicine said, extending her hand to shake.

Bridget took the proferred hand and also offered her CV.

"No problem at all."

Cuddy perused the CV and letters of recommendation, then looked up at the woman sittingopposite her.

"I need to be blunt here, Miss Dell. Dr. House is not entirely plea- I'm sorry, let me clarify. Dr. House is nearly intolerable to work with, much less for, and I believe you need to know that before we begin the interview process."

Bridget raised an eyebrow, but otherwise remained silent while Cuddy talked.

"I need someone who can put up with his foul attitude, get all his billing, summariesand paperwork done and assist with patient care. When Dr. House doesn't have a priority patient and the paperwork for the department is caught up, you'll be assisting for various other departments."

Cuddy looked at the woman expectantly. So far, this speech had scared off 7 prospective nurses/assistants.

Bridget turned her head to the side and looked at Dr. Cuddy. She appeared harried, expectant and resigned all at the same time.

"I believe that explains the pay," Bridget said, smiling at Cuddy.

Cuddy smiled back, lips tight.

"You're resume is impeccable. I made calls before our appointment, you have a fan club in your wake. What I can't figure out is why you would give up the Director of Nursing at Langwell to be an assistant here?"

Bridge took a deep breath.

"In honesty, Dr. Cuddy, I couldn't work in long term care another month. I don't have a problem with the geriatric field, I have a problem with a system that makes the lives of our elderly a poorly run business. Even in an establishment like Langwell, Dr. Cuddy, we were pushed to lower nursing and support staff hours, work with the bare minimum, just for more money. No matter that our residents paid through the nose for the pleasure of our very basic care.

"I don't wish you to believe I parted from Langwell with hard feelings. I didn't. I just couldn't be part of the problem anymore. And frankly, when I saw the position advertised, I was intrigued."

Cuddy almost cheered.

"Then, you are aware of Dr. House's reputation?"

Bridget nodded.

"His stats and his less than sterling qualities. He saves lives, but his bed side manner and colleague interaction could use some work. An overhaul, from what I hear."

Cuddy's good feeling lessened.

"So, again, I have to ask, why here?"

"You know this hospital's reputation, Dr. Cuddy, better than anyone. And after years of banging my head against a wall, I want to be part of a fully functioning, well-oiled machine. Even if it means working with or for, in this instance, a jerk."

She thought a second.

"It might be fun. I haven't had the chance for witty repartee since… Well, I don't know when."

Cuddy's good cheer returned. Finally, a nurse who didn't bolt from the office when Dr. House's… idiosyncrasies… were mentioned.

Cuddy smiled happily.

"When can you start?"

It was Bridget's turn to smile.

"Anytime, Dr. Cuddy," she replied.

* * *

The next day, Bridget was back in Cuddy's office for her joint interview with Cuddy and House.

It went… Well, it went.

"I don't need an assistant, I have Cameron," House said belligerently, before introductions could even be made.

"House, this is Bridget Dell. She's the only nurse that didn't run screaming from the room when I said your name. She's hired," Cuddy replied.

Bridget turned in her seat to regard the man by the office door.

"Pleasure to meet you Dr. House," she said casually, then turned back to Cuddy.

House limped into the office and took the seat next to Bridget.

"There are nurse's all over the hospital, I don't need thisone specifically," he continued.

"That's where we are going to have to disagree. Dr. Cameron has her own paperwork to deal with due to the increased clinic hours-"

"You increased the clinic hours!" he shouted. "Decrease them and we'll be fine."

Cuddy tried to smile patiently.

"We received a grant to expand the clinic. That means more patients. More patients equal more doctors and nurses."

"I can do simple math," House said, sinking back into the chair.

He turned to Bridget.

"What's so special about you?" he barked.

"I guess it would be that I find your pomposity and aggrieved attitude charming, despite the fact that I think you need a swift kick," Bridget said.

"You know, I'm potentially your boss, I could fire you," he remarked.

Cuddy spoke up.

"I'm her boss, you're just her supervisor. I'll take all your notes on her work into consideration when it comes to firing her." 'Or giving her a raise so she'll stay,' Cuddy thought.

"You promised me autonomy-" House started.

"And you have it. With your fellows and just about every other thing you see fit to do with or to your patients. Your assistant is the only person under my purview. Hence, autonomy."

Cuddy smiled sweetly.

House turned to Bridget.

"I like my coffee like I like my women," he said standing up and leaving.

Bridget turned towards the door.

"How is that?" she asked.

However, House had made his escape.

"He is infuriating…" Cuddy mused. "But brilliant. Unfortunately."

"An infuriating, brilliant jackass with tenure," Bridget said. "You sure know how to pick them."

Bridget wished she could suck the words back into her mouth the minute they'd gone.

Cuddy cocked her head at Bridge.

"You have no idea."

Bridget decided to bring up the other subject in her head.

"Dr. Cuddy… I don't know how to broach this, but…"

"I'll pay you almost anything you want," Cuddy said quickly. "Within reason."

"That's good to know, and my pay request is in the packet with my CV. But I wanted to talk about… something more personal."

"Yes?"

"I was employed with a… surrogate agency while I was working at Langwell. I was given your request and information."

Cuddy couldn't decide how to respond.

"I understand if you think it's too complicated to discuss, now that I'm employed here-"

"No, no…" Cuddy said, distractedly, "It's only mildly complicated." She thought a moment. "Why would you want to surrogate?"

"Why not? I'm relatively young-" She took a deep breath. "Okay, no bullshit. I was pregnant, two years ago. Due to… a terrible accident… I miscarried. I am otherwise healthy with a decent genetic history. But I get put on the bottom of the list because of the miscarriage."

"Can I ask you what happened?" Cuddy said.

Bridget smiled grimly.

"Car accident, spontaneous abortion, nothing could be done. And I guess I want to surrogate to prove I can carry a baby to term. It sounds strange and convoluted… But that pregnancy was unplanned, a surprise for my boyfriend at the time and myself. We were planning to place the child in a closed adoption. You know, careers, lack of stability… The same old thing."

Cuddy looked at the woman earnestly. The same things had run through her head when she was Bridget's age.

"You can only put it off so long…" Cuddy said quietly.

"I want to be honest with you Dr. Cuddy-"

"You get to call me Lisa when we're talking about you potentially carrying my child."

Bridge smiled.

"Then call me Bridget, please. And in all honesty, I'm not aware that I want to have children of my own. Ever. And if I do, and I'm beyond a certain age… Well, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."

She looked at her employer.

"So? You want to stick your baby in me?"

Cuddy laughed.

"The problem for me is not just the womb, it's the viability of my eggs…"

"I have plenty of eggs, all just going to waste every month. If you don't mind the blonde and blue recessive traits."

Cuddy thought quickly.

"No, actually. I don't mind that at all."

* * *

"You want me to impregnate my assistant?" House said amused. "We've only just met. Can I take her out to dinner first, see if she likes monster trucks?"

"No, House, I want you to ejaculate into a specimen cup and she'll be artificially inseminated. You're the one who went on about your great genes."

"That's when I thought I had a chance of doing the mommy-daddy hug with you. But now if I have to sit back and think of your sweet ass instead of getting a piece of it-"

"You're a pig, House. And you won't be responsible for anything. Other than providing the semen. My lawyer can draw up the paperwork for everyone to sign. You don't have to be a daddy, and Bridget will give up her claim. I'll be the sole responsible party."

House sat back in his chair and mused.

"Why would I do this?"

Cuddy took a deep breath.

"You offered."

"I refer to the mommy-daddy hug."

"I'm literally on my last chance."

"This won't even, technically, be your baby if you use her eggs."

"Why do you care?"

"You could just adopt at this rate."

Cuddy sat and looked into House's eyes.

"My eggs are no good, I've already sunk an ungodly amount of money into surrogacy. And I don't get my money back if I change my mind. I have to settle on someone eventually. I don't even know why I signed that clause in the stupid fucking contract." She took a deep breath. "Just do this House, and you can consider your clinic duty paid up for the rest of the year."

"The next 12 months and you have a deal."

"You are…"

"Good genetic material?" House put in.

"And silent. I want to keep this out of the gossip mill I mean it, not even Wilson."

"It's not going to get out when my assistant grows fat with child and then you suddenly have a baby?"

Cuddy smirked.

"That's a problem for the future. I just want your silence right now, as part of the deal."

House nodded.

"Fine. When do you want me to knock the harridan up?"

Cuddy just shook her head.

"I'll get back to you."

* * *

As part of the surrogacy procedure, Bridget was required to have a complete physical before insemination. A complete physical.

And House, with his lovely sense of humor, thought the ducklings should do it. As a training exercise.

On her first day of work, House introduced Bridget as their new patient. He also introduced his fellows colorfully. 'The black one', Dr. Foreman. 'The bleeding heart', Dr. Cameron. And 'the pretty one', Dr. Chase.

Bridget waved, but otherwise kept quiet.

"Why isn't she in a hospital room?" Foreman asked.

"Does she look like she needs to be admitted to the hospital?" House asked.

"No," Cameron said quickly, "She looks healthy."

"Ahh, grasshopper, looks can be deceiving," House said, taking a seat and tapping his cane against the floor.

"Is she sick or not, House?" Chase asked irritably.

"Full physical and work up," House said. "You tell me."

Many hours later, House was sitting in his office, listening to his Ipod and playing a game on his PSP, while Bridget sorted though paperwork in the diagnostics lounge.

"What are you doing?" Foreman asked, walking in with test results.

"What Dr. House told me to do," she replied.

"He asked you to file his clinic patients charts?"

She looked at him blankly, just for fun.

"Yes."

Foreman knocked on the glass separating the office from the lounge but got no response from House.

He gave up on that idea and left the lounge, banging House's office door open.

"Why does she have patient files?" Foreman asked belligerently.

"It pleased me," House said in a very patriarchal tone.

"Have you heard of a fun, little thing called HIPPA?"

"She's my assistant. Cuddy hired her last week."

Foreman closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Seriously, she's a nurse, she's a secretary and she's mine. So, hands off."

"You have issues, House," Foreman said, walking out of the office and back into the lounge.

"Thanks for playing, please try again," House called to the other man's back.

The ducklings were gathered in the diagnostics lounge, sitting on one side of the table. Bridget sat on the other.

"Hi, I'm Bridget Dell, R.N., M.S. I'm a Leo in the cusp of Virgo, with just a hint of Scorpio. I like short walks on the beach preceded by nice dinners and wine. My favorite sport is hockey, but I'll watch a basketball game if they're in the finals."

Chase stopped her.

"That's not what we meant. Tell us why House put us through the infantile game."

She furrowed her brow.

"I don't know. Maybe he likes torturing you? That's the impression I got, anyway," Bridget said. "You find anything?"

Foreman blew out his breath.

"You're thyroid is a bit high, but not worth medicating, and you have a UTI," he said.

"No, I don't," she said.

"No, you don't. But your thyroid is elevated. You'll want to keep an eye on it," Cameron said.

"Thanks. Anything else?"

House walked into the lounge.

"Time to go walkies," he said, motioning to Bridget.

"I didn't realize you weren't paper trained," she said, standing. "Do I need to grab a couple zip top baggies, or do you just need to go number one?"

Foreman laughed, Chase smiled and Cameron just shook her head.

"We need to see the nice Dr. Cuddy about having you spayed," he replied.

She walked to the door.

"Was that a terribly convoluted way of calling me a bitch? Or was it a cat in heat reference? Because neither really apply."

He gave her a nudge out the door.

"Bye," she called to the fellows, "See you tomorrow."

* * *

"So," he said on the walk down, "you're going to make Cuddy a mommy?"

"Such is the plan," Bridget replied.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Do you always answer a question with a question?"

"Do you always ask such personal questions about people's motivations?"

"Do you have something to hide?" he asked as they stepped onto the elevator.

"I'm the one who had every possible sample taken and scan done. I'm not hiding anything. You on the other hand…"

"Yes?" he said impatiently.

"Nope, I don't start shit. If you want my opinion, I'm going to need Greek food and a Vin Diesel movie."

"Would you settle for Indian and Jason Statham?" he said, grinning wickedly. "Granted, it has to end in sex…"

They stepped off the elevator and headed for Cuddy's office.

"Oh, no sir, we are doing this new school. You get a magazine and a cup and I get a turkey baster."

"Seems kind of ridiculous, if you're going to accept my fluids, to object to the means of transmission."

"Women, huh? We're funny like that," Bridget said and pushed Cuddy's office door open.

"She's clean as a whistle, if that whistle needed it's thyroid checked in another year or so," House said, sitting down.

Bridget took a seat as well.

"That shouldn't affect the pregnancy," Cuddy said. "Good."

"So, when does he get tested?" Bridget asked. "I'm not 'receiving any fluids' with out a few tests on his part as well."

"Done and done," Cuddy said, holding up a folder. "Now, House, by signing that contract, you gave permission-"

"Yeah, yeah. Give her the results."

Before Cuddy could hand them over, he added.

"The results came back that I'm a stud and a catch, prepare to be impregnated."

Bridget took the file.

"I'll look for myself, thanks."

She looked things over.

"No mention of stud or…" she paused, "No, no mention of what a catch you are, but you are clean. If Cuddy wants your seed, I guess I don't object."

"Magnanimous of you," House said seriously.

"I like to think so." Bridget turned to Cuddy. "Are you sure? Him?"

Cuddy smiled and nodded.

"Okay," Bridget said, "Let's get me all knocked up."


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Chapter the Second

Rated PG-13

I don't get any money for the weirdness.

* * *

Getting Bridget pregnant was like that George Harrison song from the Eighties.

It took time, lots of precious time. It took patience and time. And lots of money, but Cuddy'd already paid that, to do it right. Or, at least, that was the song that ran through Bridget's head every time she went to the fertility clinic for the inseminations. It was invariably at some ungodly time in the morning and Cuddy would drive her there and then to work.

A morning person she was not.

Then, she'd lay on the couch in House's office, legs in the air, waiting for the miracle of life. When the team asked, after the first time, Bridget told them it was a yoga move for her back and to stay out of her business. She started doing it every morning to throw them off the scent. The weren't aware of the circumstances, but they weren't dimwits.

They went through it several times. Wake up too early in the morning, get into the car with a terribly expectant Cuddy, be inseminated, lay on the couch and wait. Then the dreaded pregnancy test.

Cuddy waited in her office every time Bridget took one. She'd sit behind her desk and stare blankly at the computer screen until her phone rang. So far, four times and counting, it had been negative.

But she held on to hope every time.

* * *

"So much for super sperm," Bridget said, laying on the couch and pulling her legs up.

"That actually helping you?" House asked, popping a Vicodin.

"I don't know, it's kind of fun. And Foreman seems to like the view."

"Of course he does, black guys love white girls. Especially the blond ones with blue eyes. You're like a black guy magnet," House said sarcastically.

"I do have a lot of junk in the trunk," she said sweetly, "And isn't it more fun to talk the smack when Foreman is actually in the room?"

"I'll use it the next time I catch him checking you out," he said. "So, wear something trampy tomorrow."

"Greg House, you say the sweetest things."

"When are you going to take the test?" House asked, trying to sound casual. Doing a pretty good job at it.

"You don't care," Bridget said, moving into a sitting position.

"No, I just like the idea that Cuddy wants my swimmers so badly."

"Gi-normous… ego… taking… all… the.. air," she gasped and then laughed.

"Don't you have a stick to pee on?"

Bridget pulled a face and got up to leave.

* * *

Bridget couldn't decide where to go first. It had been three minutes after her pregnancy test and she actually had good news. She decided to go to Cuddy, as she was the payee. She could tell House in some embarrassing and private way later.

Cuddy fought the urge to jump up and yell. Bridget gave her points for that.

"I thought… It doesn't matter. It's happened. Now, you have to-"

Bridget looked up from the couch and cut in.

"Are you going to adjust my schedule and/or try to force me onto some maternity diet? Because the answer is no."

Cuddy joined her, calming a little.

"That sentence started wrong."

"Okay," Bridget said uncertainly. "Then what is it?"

"I was going to suggest, maybe kind of demand, you come stay with me while you're pregnant."

Bridget smirked.

"Is that all? Live rent free for nine months and probably be waited on hand and foot for the last part? It sounds terrible."

"I wanted you to say yes, but then I thought about your privacy and your social life…"

"What kind of social life would I have if I'm all preggers? And unless you're going to demand 24/7 time with my reproductive system, I think we can handle the privacy part. And, I'll buy groceries. I can keep us fed."

"I guess the kind of man that would be attracted to a pregnant woman might not be your type."

Bridget took Cuddy's hand.

"Lisa, he would be exactly my type," she said, then laughed. She thought for a second. "Do you know how I can get House's Ipod without him knowing?"

* * *

House was settling in for his post lunch zone out. There was no case, Bridget was excessively capable of getting all the paperwork squared away and the fellows were away on clinic duty.

House smirked.

They'd been so irritated when they found out House was exempt from clinic duty. The current theory was that he, House, was servicing Cuddy. Which wasn't too far off the mark.

He stuck his ear buds in and pressed the random button on the mp3 player. Then, disgusted, he yanked them out of his ears and looked down atit player with disgust. All his play lists had been erased and replaced with Paul Anka's 'Having My Baby' and B Rock and the Biz's 'Just My Baby Daddy'.

Bridget would pay…

* * *

"You know, House frowns on it when you look at me like that," Bridget said as Foreman sat down at the table in the Diagnostics Lounge. "Says it's clichéd for the black guyto like the white chick with a big butt. Well, I said the big butt part, but the rest was all House."

Foreman smiled grimly.

"I'm not-" he started. "Okay, I have been checking you out. But, I've kept it to myself. Wouldn't be a good idea."

'You have no idea,' Bridget thought.

"Why?" she said anyway, just to see what his reasoning was. "Is it because I'm _just_ a nurse and you're a cool neurologist?"

"We work together," he said simply.

"Doesn't seem to stop Cameron and Chase from going at it whenever possible."

"I'm not like that," Foreman replied.

"Have you dated a nurse?" she asked, knowing the answer. She'd heard the gossip on the Diagnostics team and Dr. Wilson the minute the nursing staff knew she was working for House.

He looked uncomfortable.

"Yes."

"Just 'yes'?" she prodded. "Did she break up with you or did it just get weird?"

"Why are you so interested?" he asked.

"I'm nosy," she replied, smiling.

"We just stopped seeing each other. Any more questions?"

"Not right now."

Foreman shook his head.

"If we didn't work in the same department would you ask me out?" she asked off-handedly.

"I thought you were done with the questions?"

"I lied…"

"It's hard enough to deal with House-"

Bridget looked affronted.

"Are you comparing me to House?"

Foreman came up short, then decided to brazen it out.

"Yeah, a little."

Bridget sat and thought a minute.

"You still didn't answer the question," she said.

Just then Cameron and Chase walked in, looking far too pleased with themselves. Which meant they had an interesting case or they'd just made out in a supply closet.

When they sat at the table with out talking, Bridget took it to mean the second.

"Jeez, you two, get a freaking room," she said, getting up and heading out.

* * *

House cornered Bridget outside the ladies room not far from his office.

"Thanks for replacing my music with the single suckiest tune known to man and some inane rap song," he said, standing directly in front of the door as she attempted to leave.

"I'm pretty sure that honor goes to 'Thong Song', but I won't argue the point.

She pushed by him and started down the hall.

"So," he said, catching up to her, "you're fully inGreginated."

"Did you seriously just say that?" she said, smiling.

"Pregnant just doesn't seem strong enough when talking about my potential offspring," he replied.

"Cuddy's offspring. You are simply the male progenitor. Deal with that. Plus," she said, opening the door to Diagnostics. "Cameron and Chase are still doing it in the building."

She sat back down at the table, smirking evilly.

Foreman chuckled under his breath and Cameron looked outraged, but said nothing. Chase didn't appear to give a shit.

"You two are like horny teenagers," House said, grabbing a coffee cup and filling it. "I'd turn the hose on you if I could catch you. No I wouldn't, I'd tape it and send it to everyone you've ever met."

Cameron sputtered.

"Oh, Cameron," Bridget said, "It's so sweet. Young love." She sighed dramatically.

"We did not-"

"Never mind that," House cut in. "We have a case."

Cameron seethed and glared at Bridget. The other woman just smiled, flipped her the bird while House's back was turned and mouthed the words 'Bring it'.

Foreman caught the exchange and tried not to laugh out loud. Cameron was so transparent at times, well all the time, really.

Bridget didn't know why she liked baiting the other woman so much. It might have had something to do with her shagging Chase and still continuing to lust and pine after House. Bridget wasn't particularly fond of Chase, but she hated it when women did that. It gave guys complexes and turned them into assholes for the next woman.

House just took up the dry erase marker as if that little drama hadn't played out behind his back and started listing symptoms.

* * *

Foreman caught up with Bridget just as she was unlocking her car door.

"You still want an answer to that question?" he asked, leaning against the back door of the car.

Bridget opened her door and looked at him. Ideally, she would have said yes, she was pretty sure what he was about to say. But she was in a difficult situation.

"On second thought, I'm going to agree with you. It would be awkward since we're working together."

Foreman smiled.

"I was going to say I only date black women anyway," he said, and then walked away to his car.

She laughed to herself and got into her car. Then she got right back out and followed him, knocking on his window.

"That's kind of racist, you know," she said, catching him before he put the car in gear.

He grinned.

"It's not racial, it's cultural," he said, putting his car in park.

"No, no, totally racist," she replied.

"You want to talk about this somewhere warmer?" he asked.

"I'll follow you," she said, thinking at the same time, 'Stupid, stupid, stupid.'

* * *

Bridget moved into Cuddy's guest room. It was damn near a full suite, with a full bathroom, large closet and a small sitting area.

"Being Dean of Medicine is good," she said to herself as she made her bed.

There was a knock on the door.

"Bridget? You ready for dinner?"

Bridge opened the door.

"You want Indian or American fare?"

Cuddy shrugged.

"I'm easy," she said as they walked down the hall.

"Don't say that in front of House," Bridget said snickering.

Cuddy settled on a stool at the marble island in the kitchen.

"I feel bad doing nothing while you cook," she said.

"You're only letting me live here and making my life as cushy as possible," Bridget said, "You're a lazy bum."

Cuddy smiled.

"What do you have planned for House?" she asked, getting up to get the table set.

"Why?" Bridge asked slyly.

"He's been giving you some serious shit since the positive pregnancy test-"

"Can you just say, 'Since you found out you were pregnant'?"

"It's still early…"

"Lisa," Bridget said, walking across the kitchen, "You need to unclench. I was so healthy during my first pregnancy that other pregnant women were irritated with me. No morning sickness, swelling anything, high blood pressure, blood glucose issues. So, please, relax." She put a hand on Cuddy's arm.

"If House saw us now, he'd make a dirty comment about some girl on girl action," she said, trying to lighten the mood.

Cuddy forced a laugh.

"You're not my type. Not enough stubble," she said looking into Bridget's eyes.

"I knew it!" Bridge said triumphantly. "I mean, why else would you want his genes? He's awful."

"He's a brilliant doctor," Cuddy replied, "Insightful-"

"A jackass with no filter between his brain and his mouth. He dishes out the bullshit left and right, but have you ever known him to take it?"

"He can be… assertive-"

Bridget blew out her breath and went back to the stove, adding meat and vegetables to a casserole dish.

"He's a steam roller. He runs right over anyone he thinks is wrong and/or in his way. And by the way, how you're defending him… You need to keep you're guard up at work or he'll pin you like a butterfly in a collection."

"I just get tired of playing it so close to the vest all the time," Cuddy said. "If I shouldn't have said anything to you-"

"You can say whatever you want to me, without worrying about House."

Bridget looked around suspiciously.

"Unless you think he's got the place wired."

Cuddy laughed.

"He probably fantasizes about us pillow fighting in our naugties."

"Or practicing French kissing," Bridget laughed.

"Lord knows I could use it," Cuddy said.

* * *

"Anyone sitting with you?" Foreman asked as Bridget sat, alone, in the commissary eating lunch.

"Unless the invisible man is stalking me… no. Have a seat," she said, gesturing to a chair.

Foreman put his tray down and pulled a chair closer to her.

"I thought we could continue our conversation. The one we started in the parking lot, then carried on to the café."

"What else is there to say?" Bridget said in between bites. "You flirt with me then you back off, I do the same."

"I know my reasons. It's yours that arefuzzy," he replied.

"It's that doctor-nurse relationship thing. Never works out."

Foreman shook his head.

"**You** are deflecting."

"I _thought_ I was eating my chicken salad," she said casually.

"You're doing both."

He paused.

"I thought we worked this out at the café. I admitted to being an ass to needle you about the white women remark, and that was supposed to open the floor for negotiation."

"You're negotiating for a date, Foreman? Sounds kind of desperate…"

"This is not desperation, it's intrigue. You parry and then retreat. It's… interesting."

"You find me fascinating?"

Foreman looked at her expectantly.

"You don't feel similarly?"

"Again, I will state, we work together. If you dip your wick in company ink-"

He shook his head.

"That is a ridiculous and out-dated saying. There's no ink well and I don't think I want anything I do referred to as 'dipping my wick'."

"Funny," she said.

"Not as funny as House," Foreman said, then took a bite of his salad.

She choked a bit on the chicken.

"Huh?"

"You spend a lot of time with him…"

"I'm his keeper. Cuddy basically hired me to follow up after him and pick up the droppings. And that's why I get the big bucks," she said, smiling.

"You have fun with him," he said.

"He's like sparring with a top level fencer after years of being poked at with butter knives."

"And where am I on that scale?" Foreman asked.

"Level 3 or 4; pretty high."

"I'll just take the compliment and let anything else in my head go."

"You should," Bridget said.

"I'm curious about where Chase and Cameron fall…"

"I'm not saying anything further. That's called evidence and I avoid it."

"You do seem… closed… at times."

"I like to keep my personal life personal. That's all."

"I'm not an open book myself. But I am interested in getting to know you better… Without prying."

Bridget smiled.

'It's complicated,' she thought.

"In a platonic way?" she asked.

"Does that rule out any future chance of a romantic date?"

"Not forever, but for the foreseeable future."

Foreman sighed dramatically.

"That's better than a no."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

R for naughty language.

I don't own any of this weirdness.

Thanks for reading

* * *

"It's not…"

House blew out his breath.

"The next person to say something as inane as lupus or vasculitis or Hep gets bludgeoned with the cane!"

House paused.

"So? Any takers?"

Foreman, Chase and Cameron were silent.

Bridget was off to one side with her laptop doing paperwork, watching the team struggle with the latest case. She'd done some research of her own, but hadn't come up with anything the other doctor's hadn't just said or began running tests for.

The patient continued to decline. He'd presented with seizures, altered mental status, decreased motor skills and weight loss. Tests were run, serology ruled out bacterial and viral infections. MRI and x-rays ruled out masses or blockages.

"It's something we can't see," Chase said.

"Uh, duh," House said, banging his cane against the table, causing everyone to jump except for Foreman and Bridget, who saw it coming. "Cameron, go draw more blood and run another series of tests. Foreman, convince the father we need a brain biopsy and Chase… just go. Get out of here."

The team took off. Foreman cast a look over at Bridget before he left. She just shrugged and tried to concentrate on her work.

"You have nothing better to do?" House barked.

"I'm doing it," she replied, staring him down.

"Do you have to do it here?" he continued to snap.

"I work in the Diagnostics department, this is where I'm supposed to be."

"Work is such a subjective word…"

Bridget decided she didn't want the sparring match, grabbed her laptop and left.

"You win. You get to be a miserable bastard by yourself."

"Make yourself useful and get more background on the patient," House called at her retreating figure.

She offered a one-fingered salute without turning around.

"Anything for you, boss," she called back.

House sat silently, cane spinning between his fingers.

* * *

Foreman was waiting down the hall from the Diagnostics office. He joined Bridget on the elevator.

"He gets like this when he can't figure it out," he said. "Don't take it personally."

"Can't take anything he says personally, no matter what it is," she replied.

"What's he sent you off to do?"

She shrugged.

"Dig into the deep, dark family secrets of the McPherson Clan."

"Cameron did a pretty thorough history."

"Which is why I'm taking it with me. Make sure I don't ask the same questions and maybe expound on anything glossed over," Bridget said. "Have you figured out how you're going to convince the father to do a potentially brain-damaging biopsy?"

"I was planning on telling him that I've had this particular biopsy done myself," Foreman replied.

Bridget looked at him questioningly.

"Yes… I really did."

"I wasn't doubting you. It's just that… Well, you know what could have happened," she said.

"And here I am," he said, laughing mirthlessly.

"I'm going to ask you what that means after we do our jobs," Bridget said.

"You dig into the history first. If that's fruitless, then I'll work on the father for the brain biopsy."

Bridget smiled.

"Whatever you say, Doctor Foreman," she said quite properly.

Foreman smiled back and followed suit.

"Thank you, Nurse Dell," Foreman replied. "Page me when you're done."

* * *

Bridget spent almost an hour and a half plumbing the depths, exploring every nook and cranny of the family history. The father and mother made phone calls to family members to answer some questions. It seemed to be leading somewhere.

She took her notes, paged Foreman to the Diagnostic Lounge and headed that way.

Unfortunately, about 15 feet away, she could hear the sound of House's raised voice. The shouting wasn't a surprise, and the fact that he seemed to be shouting at Wilson wasn't particularly interesting, either. It was what he was shouting.

Wilson had refused to prescribe House's Vicodin. House had a run in with a detective named Tritter and somehow Wilson had become involved. Furthermore, Wilson wanted to know what it was that House was hiding. Other than the fact that he took Wilson's prescription pad, which he seemed to know about.

House's door opened and Bridget hid behind the corner as Wilson stalked out. Then, she was tapped on the shoulder and almost peed her pants.

When her heart rate settled, she swatted Foreman on the shoulder.

"You scared the crap out of me. Whistle or… stomp or something," she said, still panting a little.

"Sorry," he said, smiling just a bit. "Why are you hiding?"

She straightened up and put on her poker face.

"Follow me, doctor, and you can work it out with House," she replied.

They entered House's office and she handed House her notes. He looked them over.

"This just… There's no solution in this!" House shouted.

"But there's more information. Use it, asshat," Bridget said, turning to go.

* * *

Days had gone by and they were no closer to an answer.

House looked pale, almost gray, sweaty and seemed thinner. The team and Bridget noticed. He wasn't getting enough Vicodin, for his pain and the addiction. Tritter had been riding him pretty hard, he'd even questioned the team, with the exception of Bridget.

And Wilson was questioning Hpuse frequently about what was going on. He knew that House didn't have to work in the clinic anymore and Cuddy was bending over backward more than usual to make House happy.

Then, House had slipped and something about Bridget. House couldn't/wouldn't go to Cuddy as that might add fuel to the fire. And he apparently didn't want to work in the clinic more than he wanted his Vicodin. So far.

It also didn't help that none of them had slept more than 15 minutes at a time in the last 3 days and that their patient was circling the drain. All of it was definitely taking a toll on their boss.

"What's going on, House?" Foreman asked.

"Has nothing to do with the case. None of your business," House snapped.

House sat, banging his cane against the floor.

"It's something we can't see…" he said.

Chase snorted.

"Suddenly it's brilliant because you said it?"

Bridget shook her head and wished she had a gag.

"No, it's brilliant, because I know what it means now. You on the other hand, were just tossing things out there without a clue," House replied. "We didn't see it because we weren't looking far enough."

He turned to Foreman.

"Look at the biopsy on the mitochondrial level."

* * *

Bridget had just walked into the Diagnostic Lounge when House finally caved.

The team had run the tests, found the disease and were attempting to treat the young man. Their patient stood little chance of surviving the next week. Mitochondrial diseases, specifically his, were notoriously incurable.

Bridget had just opened the door when she heard House shout.

"Bridget's pregnant!"

"So?" Wilson replied.

"My kid, for Cuddy. You happy? Now give me my fucking Vicodin!"

Bridget heard the door to the lounge open behind her and saw the team file in. There was no way they missed that.

To his credit, Foreman said nothing in front of anyone.

Bridget then blamed the fall-out on Cameron.

She knew, intellectually, that anyone walking by would have heard what House had said. But Cameron had ran from the room with a quickness, and Bridget felt it likely that she'd spilled her guts to the first person she saw.

Wilson was immediately contrite, writing 'scripts whenever House asked. House milked Wilson's emotional distress for all it was worth. He also pretended not to care what had happened. He was, however, considerably surlier and snappish in the weeks following 'the incident'.

Talk spread through the hospital at the speed of gossip. Which is well known to have it's own speed, especially in a healthcare setting.

The subsequent 'talk' in Cuddy's office with House, Wilson and Bridget was heard in snatches when voices were raised.

Wilson pointed out that House was a manipulative bastard who would go to any lengths to find out what he wanted to know and therefore had no right to be that terribly upset. Plus, he was now being investigated because his 'bestest buddy' had forged a prescription from his, Wilson's, pad.

Cuddy's counter-point was that Wilson used pain and House's own addiction (a word House balked at) against him to gain information he had no right to. Something House had not been known to implement against Wilson in the past.

Bridget sat quietly for the most part. She didn't care if the entire hospital, or in fact, all of Princeton-Plainsboro, knew she was Cuddy's surrogate. It had been Cuddy's request for silence that created the deal with House.

House didn't sit idle. He wouldn't admit to keeping the secret for Cuddy's or Bridget's sake. He reiterated that he wanted to not set foot in the clinic for a year. And he believed that the deal should still stand. Without the amazing cruelty and manipulation of his 'good friend', words spoken in acid tones, James Wilson, House would have kept the truth to himself.

Cuddy agreed, but it didn't stop her from exacting a favor from both House and Wilson.

"I'm being forced to host my family reunion this year, and as much as I'd love to have Bridget there, I don't want to explain my life to my family any more than I have to." She paused, looking overwhelmed suddenly. "And I'm putting most of them up in local hotels as it is… I'm spread thin. I need someone to take up the slack.

"So, one of you…" She blew out her breath. "Put Bridget up in a hotel, rent her an apartment, make her comfortable."

Bridget piped up.

"I can get my own place, I'm not indigent. I have a pretty good job that pays fantastically well," she said, mildly irritably.

"That's not the point, Bridge," Cuddy said. "This… shouldn't have happened. And it needs to be rectified."

Cuddy looked pointedly at Wilson.

"I'll take care of the hotel," Wilson said.

"I don't want to live in a hotel," Bridget said. She knew she could pile up humongous room service charges with impunity, but the very truth was that she didn't like hotels. She liked her own unique place.

"First round goes to Wilson," Cuddy said. "What are you going to do?"

Wilson sat silently, thinking.

"I'm living in a hotel myself."

He thought a second.

"But… House has a spare room. I slept on the couch because he didn't feel like clearing it out."

"No," House said immediately.

Suddenly, Bridget liked the idea. She'd be less likely to get involved with… anyone. Anyone being Foreman. She could annoy House and make Wilson cook every night. Or at least pay for every meal.

"I like it," she said.

"No," House reiterated.

Cuddy looked at Bridget, who smiled sweetly.

"I want to live with Uncle Greg," Bridget said mischievously.

"First of all, no. Second, the room is packed with my stuff-"

Cuddy cut him off.

"Wilson will pay to have it put in expensive storage."

Wilson blinked.

"I will?"

Cuddy leveled a hard glance.

"I guess I will."

"This is all predicated on the idea that I'll let her move in, and I won't," House said.

"You will or I'll withdraw our deal. Back to the clinic for you," Cuddy replied.

"But-" House began to protest and was cut off by Cuddy.

"The deal was that no one would know, now everyone in New Jersey knows. Your fault or not, you broke the agreement and have to make amends to keep yourself out of the clinic. Worth it?" she asked.

House looked angry and disgusted.

"Hardly, but I'll do it."

House turned to Bridget.

"'Uncle Greg' will need private time to have 'friends' over. You'll have to make yourself scarce."

"Because I want to be there when your escort arrives…" She paused a beat. "And I can always find a way to kill 15 minutes," she added, just to stir the pot.

"Anything else?" Cuddy asked before House could respond. "Before I work out my issues with Dr. Wilson."

Wilson shifted nervously.

"I want Wilson to either cook or pay for our meals," Bridget said.

"Now, that's thinking," House said, less miserable for the first time since stepping into Cuddy's office that day.

"I pay for almost all your meals, anyway," Wilson pointed out.

House snorted.

"Oh, this isn't going to be Reuben's and Chinese delivery…" he said wickedly.

Wilson blanched at the idea.

Bridget just smiled to herself and got up.

"Got paperwork to do," she said. "Thanks, Lisa."

"No problem," the woman replied. "I wish it hadn't happened like this…"

"Don't worry about it," Bridget said, opening the door to the office.

"You can leave, too, House," Cuddy said.

House smirked at Wilson and followed Bridget out.

Cuddy looked at Wilson, who was staring down at his lap and then out the window.

"Jimmy…"

* * *

Cuddy made things move fast after that. House's spare room was emptied, items put in storage, cleaned in record time and Bridget was moved in the day after that.

"What will people say when the mother of my child moves in?" House asked from the couch as Bridget brought her last bag in.

"I wasn't planning on telling anyone. You?" she replied.

"Nope, I plan to stay out of that clinic for as long as humanly possible."

He looked over at her.

"Get me beer?"

"No. Going to bed."

"Spoil sport. You're not going to be a fun roomie…"

Bridget ignored him, got ready and fell into bed.

Then next morning she was awakened by incredibly loud music

Bridget pulled herself out of bed and followed the noise. The deafening sound originated in the living room, where she found House. Relaxing on the sofa, drinking coffee.

"Too loud?" he yelled over the din.

Bridget walked over to the CD player and slapped the power button. The room fell into wonderful quiet.

"Problem?" he asked, taking a long drink of his coffee.

"Nope," she said, walking away towards the bathroom, revenge already forming in her head.

This went on for the entire week. House waking up at the butt-crack of dawn, picking something loud and grating and blasting it until Bridget came out and shut it off. She tried ear-plugs and even removing the wires to the speakers. He just moved the speakers closer to her room, bought another set and it would start over again.

Until Bridget finally had enough and came up with a plan.

That morning started like all the others; hideously loud. But instead of turning it off, Bridget just got up and went about her morning routine.

Bridget went to the kitchen after showering and dressing, finding House pouring himself another cup of coffee.

"You move pretty quick for a pregnant woman," he said off-handedly.

"Faster than a grumpy gimp," she replied, pulling out her tea. "I'm going to be late today."

"Any particular reason?"

"Baby stuff. Exams. Probing."

House grimaced.

"On that note, I'll be off," he said, leaving his coffee and grabbing his cane.

Bridget smiled to herself and turned on the kettle.

--

House arrived back at the apartment late that night and went straight to bed.

Once Bridget could hear him snoring through the door, she finished off her evil plan. When she was done, she slipped into bed and set her alarm earlier than usual. She planned to be well out of the apartment by the time House dragged himself out of bed.

--

"So, you're having House's baby…" Foreman said walking into the Diagnostics Lounge. Bridget was by herself in the dimly lit room.

"Please don't turn the lights on," she said. "Massive headache… And, yes, I realize the lights will have to come on eventually, but for now, just leave it." She paused. "I'm having the baby for Lisa, and she was the one who wanted House's genes."

"I understand the hot and cold running flirtation now," he said, sitting down at the table opposite her. He noticed that she hadn't bothered to open her laptop. "Hurts too much to look at the screen?" he asked, motioning to the computer.

"Yes. It's my hormones, so there's really not much I can do about it."

"You could stay home. I'm sure House would give you the day off-"

She opened her eyes fully and gave him a glare.

"How would that look?" she asked. "House's 'baby-mama' doesn't have to come into work… There's enough bullshit flying around this hospital, and I'd rather steer clear of the other nurse's wrath."

'Plus, I was really naughty and I didn't want to be there when he blared his tunes,' she thought.

"Point taken."

"And so you know, I'd be flirting shamelessly with you if I weren't currently carrying the spawn of the Diagnostician," she said, eyes closed again, head down on the table.

"Sounds like a horror movie," Foreman laughed.

She chuckled, then grimaced.

"Don't make me laugh…"

Just then the rest of the Diagnostic staff walked in and Cameron flipped on the lights.

"Why are you sitting here in the dark?" she asked.

Bridget just sighed and left the room.

'Hope I can avoid House until this headache subsides,' she thought irritably and headed for the clinic, the best hiding place.

* * *

Bridget heard about the state House was in when he got to the hospital. Foreman paged her and told her to stay wherever she was. Bridget just smiled and agreed.

After several hours of mind-numbing paperwork, the edge was beginning to wear off of her headache.

'Time to bell the cat,' she thought, putting away the various charts and heading to Diagnostics.

She pushed the door open to Chase shaking his head at her and pointing the other way. She just smiled and walked into the office.

House noticed and immediately rounded on her.

"Where the hell are my records and CDs?" he yelled.

Bridget tried to look innocent and failed. After that, she decided a sweet smile would piss him off the most.

"What are you talking about?" she said.

Chase cringed, Cameron smirked and Foreman looked concerned.

"Where the-"

"I heard you the first time," she said, sitting down at the table. "Do you mean the records and CDs you like to blast at an ungodly time of the morning, even for you? Those items?"

House look could have melted steel.

"Yes, those," he ground out. "I pressed play and I got Yanni… All my records are gone and all the CDs have been replaced with easy listening and new age contemporary." He took a deep breath. "What the hell did you do with my music?"

"Nothing," she said, "I just figured if you were going to blast something at 6 in the morning it might as well be something soft and evil and instead of loud and evil."

"What do you mean 'nothing'? The cases are still there, but they have crap CDs in them."

She smiled at House.

"I was busy last night," she said and turned to Foreman. "Did you know that there's a lot of new age contemporary in the dollar bin at the music stores?"

Foreman just smiled and shook his head.

Bridget turned back to House.

"You get your music back when I get a written, signed, witnessed by Cuddy statement that you will not try to drive me out of the apartment with loud anything. Got it?"

House fumed.

"They're all safe and sound," Bridget said, "For now…"

* * *

"Talk about living life dangerously," Foreman said, setting his tray on the table opposite Bridget's.

Bridget just smiled.

"He got what he deserved. And when I get what I want, all his stuff will go back exactly where it was."

"This thing with Tritter's getting bad," he said abruptly.

"I heard."

"I'm surprised he hasn't talked to you yet."

"I'm just a lowly nurse," she said wryly. "I can't prescribe House narcotics."

Foreman grinned.

"Two more years and you'd be a nurse practitioner," he said.

"I suppose…" she said, then decided to change the subject. "Tell me why you had such an invasive brain biopsy."

"You really don't mince words," he replied.

"You don't find out what you want if you pussy-foot around."

Foreman shook his head.

"I'll make a deal with you… I'll answer this very personal question if you answer one in return."

"It's not that personal," she said.

"I almost died. I would have died," Foreman said grimly.

She took a deep breath.

"Just one," she said.

"Fair enough."

Foreman went on to tell her the circumstances that lead to the police officer coming to PPTH and his subsequent infection. He didn't go into detail about the terrible pain.

"There were parasites," he finished. "I took the meds and I recovered."

"But… you had-"

"I had memory issues after the biopsy, but I'm fine now. My turn," he said.

Bridget smiled.

"Shoot."

"If you were not currently Cuddy's surrogate, carrying the spawn of Limpy, would you go out with me this weekend?"

"That's far less personal than what you just told me," she said.

"Are you saying that you don't want to answer?"

She sighed.

"I'm not saying that."

Foreman smiled at her.

"If I were not carrying the spawn of Limpy for Cuddy… then yes, I'd go out with you this weekend. My choice of entertainment," she said.

"I think you should go out with me anyway," he said.

"Why?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Foreman took her in with a glance.

"You're smart, witty and devious enough to deal with House. I think you're interesting. But when we're here, all we talk about is work."

"It's generally frowned on to date when you're pregnant with someone else's baby," Bridget said, looking down at her fruit salad.

Foreman laughed.

"Well, if you were going out with House, I'd agree. But you're not."

She looked up at him.

"Did you know that you look like that guy on the Def Jam Fight for New York game? I was playing it the other night, whooping House's ass."

"There's the deflection I've grown used to," Foreman said good-naturedly.

Bridget smiled at him.

"Fine, I'll go out with you. But I don't kiss until after cocktails."

Foreman smiled and finished eating his lunch.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Rated PG-13-ish to R for some language.

I make no money, don't sue.

* * *

"I've got a friend coming over on Saturday night, so go out. Tell Cuddy you want to talk about baby stuff, she'll be thrilled, make an evening of it," House said as soon as Bridget walked in.

"No problem," she said, heading to her room.

"What," he called, "no snide remarks about hookers?"

"No," she said, emerging from the bedroom, "It's enough that you're waiting for me to say something."

She went to the kitchen.

"What did Wilson have sent over tonight?"

"Chicken Tikka Masala with rice and mixed vegetables. The last are all yours, need to keep the little parasite nourished…" House said. "You're looking a little pudgy for 18 weeks."

Bridget ignored the last comment.

"So sweet of you to think of me," she said, loading up a plate and putting it in the microwave.

"A little bird told me Foreman's in love," he said as she sat down at the other end of the sofa.

"Is that so?"

"This same little bird said you spend a lot of lunches together."

Bridget smiled.

"We eat lunch at the same time. So? You eat lunch with Wilson everyday. What should I extrapolate from that?"

House smiled indulgently.

"Point one, I am not a homosexual. Wilson…eh. He might have had his ass kicked enough by women to consider playing for the other team."

He thought a minute.

"In fact…"

He looked over at Bridget, saw that she wasn't buying it and moved on.

"You, Foreman, lunch. Nooners?"

"How, if everyone sees us in the commissary, are we having nooners?"

House leered.

"You tell me."

"No. I'm not talking to you about my lack of sex life."

"So, the most action you've gotten recently was the turkey baster?" he said, grinning and then drinking his beer.

Bridget gave him a sour look.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Nosy."

"I get that," she said, digging into her food.

"You deflect well," House said.

"So I've heard."

"Why did you want to move in here?" he asked, suddenly.

She chewed, swallowed, then looked at him.

"Because you really seemed to hate the idea," she said as soon as she could. "And I don't like hotels. And I wanted to make you more evil towards Wilson. It was a win-win-win situation."

"That's all?" he said, leering ever so slightly.

She laughed.

"You think I want your skinny ass?"

House just shrugged and took another long drink.

"No, House, I'm not interested. Even if you weren't a misanthropic, narcotic-addicted asshole."

"I could be hurt by that…"

"If you gave a shit."

"That's it… I guess I'll live."

Bridget finished her dinner and left House sitting on the sofa with the remote and his beer.

-

Saturday came faster than Bridget anticipated and she was meeting Foreman at a restaurant she wouldn't have normally have even thought of. It was majestic on the outside and cozy on the inside. Quiet, with just the right kind of lighting.

"Any reason you didn't want me to pick you up at House's?" he asked as they were seated.

"Cameron is already telling him stories of our long lunches," she said. "Or at least, I'm fairly sure it's Cameron. What's up her ass?"

"You really want an answer to that?" he asked, looking at the menu.

"She has a thing for House. I got it, great. But what's her big, honking deal with me?"

"You're having his baby," Foreman said as if it was obvious.

"Not with or for him. And she's been hot and heavy with Chase…"

"Women, huh?" he said, smiling.

"Terribly funny," she said. "What's good here? That doesn't involve shellfish."

"Allergy?"

"You don't even want to know the extent. Let me add to that list strawberries and blueberries. It's terrible."

"No chocolate allergy?"

She smiled widely.

"I'd commit hara-kiri."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, laughing.

Foreman pointed out his favorite items and the specialties. They ordered as soon as the waiter walked over and were silent a moment after he left.

Foreman broke the quiet.

"So, tell me a bit about yourself. Omitting the things I already know…"

"What do you want to know?" she asked, then sipped her water.

"Where are you from, family stuff, the basics. I've told you the most I've ever told a… friend."

She took a breath.

"Originally from Chicago, Lincoln Park area, loved it, miss it. Only child. Umm… Mom and dad divorced when I was 13... Mom remarried when I was 14, dad when I was 15... Hated my step-parents with a passion... Good grades, liked drama in high school, then went to nursing school."

She looked at him.

"Not much else…"

"So, we won't be discussing exes…" he said.

"I don't see why we should," Bridget said. "But if you're interested; I dated one guy my senior year of high school, dated off and on through nursing school, then met someone while I was working at Northwestern. Then I moved to New Jersey, and here were are." She paused a beat. "You?"

"About the same. Except it was medical school. Didn't get around a lot. I was always studying so much."

"Except when you were boosting cars?" she said, smiling at him.

Foreman shook his head.

"The story on that is…" he said and paused. "I…"

He looked at her, she was continuing to smirk at him from behind her water glass.

"You don't even care, do you?"

"Nope," she said after a long swallow.

She looked around at the restaurant as the waiter set the food in front of them.

"Three glasses of wine and this lighting would get anyone lucky," she said. "It's just so… intimate. Wonder why you picked it…"

He smirked.

"Don't look at me like that. I got a guide to the area's fine dining, closed my eyes and picked one."

"Says the man who knows the specialties and has a favorite dish," she replied.

Foreman just grinned at her.

They ate quietly, making the occasional comment on the food.

Once he was done, he set his plate aside.

"So, if you weren't carrying my boss' baby and had three glasses of wine in you, I'd be hot in this light?"

"Fish much, Foreman?" she asked.

"Well, you agreed to go out with me, but you never said why."

"Really fishing…"

He just shrugged and sipped his drink.

"Fine, I'm fishing," he said after she continued her silence.

She paused.

"Maybe I wanted a free meal…"

He shot her a look.

"So needy…" she sighed. "To tell the truth, I just liked you from the start. Professionally, mostly."

She saw his look.

"And I thought you were hot. Happy?"

She smiled at him and he grinned in return.

"You didn't get your back up when Cuddy hired me. You stand up for yourself. And you're kind of funny, when you don't try too hard and, also, you asked me."

He smiled at her.

"So, if Chase had asked you-"

"Cameron would have gone full on black widow and bitten my head off. Plus, never date anyone with better hair than your own."

Foreman laughed.

"But Wilson…" she said.

He looked uncertain.

"…is not anywhere near my type. I only date black guys," she said and grinned.

Foreman suddenly tried to look nonchalant.

"But you're living with House?"

Bridget raised an eyebrow.

"After everything… happened, exploded, whatever… it just ended up that way. Oddly enough, I had a similar conversation with him earlier this week."

He looked at her expectantly.

"And I made it clear in very certain terms that I'm just an implement of annoyance for Cuddy and to get over himself."

"He doesn't…"

"Annoy the shit out of me?" she finished for him.

"Yes, that."

"He's cranky and occasionally weird. He may yell and make me cry, but then I do something wicked and we're even."

Foreman looked concerned.

"He makes you cry?"

"Hormones are a bitch. It's fine though. I'm evil enough for two."

Foreman took the bill and soon he was helping her into her jacket.

"Short walk on the beach?" he asked once they were out the door.

"Seriously?" she asked. "Bit chilly."

"Maybe I'm not ready for the evening to be over," he said.

She smiled at him and put her hands in her pockets.

"I had a good time, too," she said.

"Enough to do it again?" he asked on the short walk to her car.

She pretended to consider.

"I suppose. But just one more, I'm kind of getting fat."

He smirked at her.

"Babies do that…" he replied.

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him.

"You're not one of those guys that gets hot for pregnant bellies?"

"I'll reserve my answer for when you're baby bump is fuller," he said stopping by the end of her car.

"Right…" she said, fishing the keys out of her purse and unlocking her car.

She turned to him, noticing him looking at her intently. She moved closer to him, holding out a hand that he took in his.

"One kiss," she said. "No tongue."

Foreman leaned in and put a hand on her hip. Their lips touched, soft and sweet. Bridget moved a bit closer, putting a hand on the back of his neck, then pulled away.

"Okay…" she said. "That was…nice."

"Yeah," he said, quietly.

"I should go…"

"If you really want to…"

She disengaged completely.

"I'm going to go," she said. "I had a really good time. We should do it again."

She got into her car quickly, leaving him to walk to his car with a smile on his face.

He got in his car and was ready to go when he saw her car pull up behind his.

He lowered his window, expecting some odd comment. But, she leaned into his car and kissed him again.

"Just to make sure," she said, after breaking the kiss.

"Make sure of what?" he asked, surprised.

"That the tingles were from the kiss not the onset of hypothermia," she said, smiling and walking back to her car.

**-**

"She's sick, House," Cameron said plaintively.

"What an extremely concise oversimplification," House shot back irritably.

"If we give her the immuno-suppressants any opportunistic infection could kill her," Chase said.

"Then she'll need a highly trained sitter. Maybe a nurse with her Master's degree…" House said, looking pointedly at Bridget.

She noticed the eyes turned to her and looked up from the summaries she'd been engrossed in before the interruption.

"I suppose that would be me," she said. "So, I guess Ivolunteer."

Cameron looked at House.

"You're really going to do this?"

House shook his head.

"When are you going to learn? I'm always right."

"Eventually," Bridget said as she grabbed her purse and headed out the door. "I'll be in the patient's room, making sure she doesn't die. Ta."

-

At 26 weeks, Bridget walked with a slight waddle and felt the incredible need to pee at the worst possible times.

She was at the elevator when Wilson walked up to her. She pressed the button and looked at him.

"Yes?"

"Bridget," he said in greeting.

"Wilson," she replied. "Are you up to something?"

"Your penguin gait is getting more pronounced," he said, smiling.

"Funny. Is making a pregnant woman cry on your list of mean shit to do today?" she said getting on the, unfortunately, empty elevator, Wilson right behind her.

"Still on the emotional roller-coaster?"

"Yes, James, I am. What do you want?"

"I wanted to thank you for the helpful suggestion to Cuddy-"

"It's not my fault you're an ass. Or that House is an ass. You two made your beds, now I get to lay in one." She paused. "And for all your talk you sure did jump on the grenade for him. And he got off easy… Rehab? Please. You both could have gone to jail."

"Thanks for reminding me."

"No problem."

"I actually came over here to apologize and then it turned into this… whatever the hell is happening."

"Well," she said, getting off the elevator and heading to the patient's room, "you could try again."

"Bridget," he said and she stopped walking.

She looked at him, amused.

"I'm sorry for whatever backlash you had to deal with from what I did."

"Pretty good. Anything else?"

"I have a plan for House…"

"Does it involve bugging the shit out of him?"

"Of course," Wilson said, smiling.

-

At the end of the day House's patient was stable and recovering.

Bridget went over the address in her head, leaving with Foreman.

"I just need to stop there for a minute. I'm not getting a drink, Foreman, I'm saying hi to someone."

"Someone you don't want me to meet?"

He sounded suspicious.

"I promise to explain everything when we get to your place."

"Fine," he said, though she was fairly sure that was not what he meant.

-

House and Wilson were out for drinks in a noisy, college student populated pub. House was starting his second drink and continued to extol the virtues of hookers and everything that was wrong with Wilson's relationships.

He stopped abruptly, noticing a lovely young woman checking him out. He gave a slick smile and motioned her over to the table. She tapped a friend on the shoulder and they both joined the men.

"I'm Cami," the first young woman said and tossed her head in the direction of her friend. "This is Sheri." They were pretty in a cheap, sluttyway.

House looked at Wilson and moved to let them sit.

A couple of drinks later, in full 'get some' mode, House felt a presence at his shoulder. He looked over. His eyes widened.

"Greg?" Bridget said pitifully, rubbing her belly. "Greg, honey, are you coming home tonight?"

The girls squirmed uncomfortably and Wilson tried his very best not to smile.

"The boys miss their Daddy… And little Missy will be here soon… Don't you love us anymore, Greg?"

The girls looked at House, accusations in their eyes.

"She's not… Well, yes, this is technically my baby, but it's not for me."

"Greg!" Bridget said, lower lip trembling, "Little Missy is not an 'it'. She's the beautiful culmination of our love."

House's eyes narrowed.

"What the hell, Bridget?"

"So, you, like, know her?" Cami asked.

Bridget turned to the girls.

"He's really a good man," she said. "When he's not drinking, or taking pills, or," she paused to take a shaky breath, "cheating on me."

She looked at House.

"I'll forgive you, Greg, if you just come home."

She turned towards Wilson.

"How can you let him do this? What would your wife think?"

House looked at Wilson, who tried to look as confused as possible.

Bridget turned to go, then turned back, casting one more pathetic look at House, mouthing the words, "Come home." Then she fled the bar.

"Shit," House said as the girls left the table.

"Asshole," one offered as they went.

Wilson put on his best game face and prayed House wouldn't connect him to this one.

-

Once at Foreman's place, Bridget told him everything.

"That… that's something I wouldn't have thought of," he said and laughed.

"You have to be devious. Which you know I excel at," she replied, settling on the couch next to him. "Alas, I can't take credit for all of it. Wilson came up with the idea, but I sold it. The little college girls ran."

Foreman pulled her feet up into his lap and started massaging at the toes.

"Cuddy wouldn't approve of the smoky bar."

"Which is why she wasn't there," Bridget said, leaning back and enjoying the foot rub. "And you have trust issues."

He looked at her pointedly.

"Really?"

"You assumed, one, I was meeting a man, two, it was a rendezvous, and, three, that I'd do some shit like that."

"So, I have trust issues."

She shifted on the couch uncomfortably.

"Pressure?" Foreman asked.

"Yeah, just the usual."

"Do your feet feel any better?"

"Yes," she said, trying to reposition. "Thanks for doing that."

"No problem," he said, hand moving up her leg to her thigh.

"Dangerous territory," she said.

Foreman smiled at her.

"I apparently do have a thing for a pregnant woman," he said, hands massaging her calves.

"You know I can't-"

"We won't," he reassured.

She was torn.

"Then what are we doing?"

He moved her feet to the floor and moved closer to her, wrapping her in his arms.

"Belly," she said quietly, "It's awkward."

Foreman moved so that she was resting almost on his chest, legs hanging off the couch.

"Better?"

She shifted on her side, facing him a little more.

"Yes."

"You want to wait until after you have the baby to… move forward. And I respect that. But it doesn't mean we can't be...close."

"It's your fault," she said, grinning. "All that flirting."

"Well, when we first met, you took your clothes off. I was intrigued."

"You make it sound kind of dirty," she whispered.

"Now you're flirting, Bridget."

"I suppose…"

Foreman reached over and stroked her belly, a movement Bridget found hopelessly endearing.

"Do you want me to take you home?"

She sighed and moved closer.

"No, not yet. If you don't mind."

"Not at all…"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Rated M for mature- much, much, much swearing. Well, she's having a baby, you understand.

I don't own it. It just runs through my head until I write it down. Make no money, no sue.

-

Bridget was due to deliver within the week. She felt big as a bus and twice as heavy. She was in Cuddy's office frequently, laying on the couch and being massaged. Cuddy had made herself Bridget's labor coach, which was expected.

After a particularly restless nap, she stood and headed for Diagnostics, figuring she could get some paperwork out of the way. The second she hit the door a wave of pain coursed through her abdomen.

"Shit!" she yelled.

House and the team turned to look at her. Then something even more embarrassing happened, her water broke in the doorway to the lounge.

"Baby alert," House said. "Cameron, page Cuddy. Chase, call OB and let them know she's on the way. Foreman, grab a wheel chair and get your girlfriend to delivery."

The team scrambled.

"What are you going to do?" Bridget gasped.

"Wait for them to do what I told them. And don't think I've forgotten about your little stunt in the pub. You'll pay for that eventually."

"Nice, House," she said.

Foreman moved the wheel chair behind her and she sat.

"Prepare the tri-state area, there's going to be another little House soon," House said, grinning wickedly as Foreman wheeled Bridget away.

-

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Bridget screamed. "Where the fuck is the fucking anesthesiologist?"

Cuddy looked apologetic.

"I'm getting an epidural, right?" Bridget gasped, then screamed.

"Your labor has progressed-"

"If you say any variation of I'm not getting any drugs I'll shoot the fucking doctor!"

"You're almost done," Cuddy said. "Which is strange, because the first time usually takes longer."

"He lied," House said, entering the delivery room. "The first time goes quick, especially if you're in the back of a Chevette."

"Perfect," Bridget groaned. "Just what I fucking need."

"You know you're scaring the other newbs, right?" he asked.

"Are you talking about bitches who have epidurals?" she asked angrily. "'Cause I don't give a ripe shit. Unless you're giving me the fucking drugs."

"Sure," House said, turning to a nurse, "I'll need a bit of the old morphine for her highness here."

"House!" Cuddy yelled.

"You'd deny the mother of your child pain relief?" he said, pretending shock. "You're not the woman I thought you were."

"Morphine?" Cuddy asked.

"Should kill the pain," he said, off-handedly.

"Gimme! Gimme the fucking morphine!" Bridget yelled, took a deep breath and felt the contraction sweep through her like a terrible tide. "I'm never doing this again. Ever. I should… Fuck!" Another contraction.

"Sure thing on those drugs. Dr. Frankland will be in and we'll get you dosed up," House said cheerfully.

Frankland walked in, took one look and said, "Let's get that little bugger out of there. She's crowning, dear. You need to push with the contraction."

House shrugged.

"You're a fucking liar, House!"

"Push now, dear," Frankland said again.

"Fuck off," Bridget yelled and pushed, though she felt ready to tear apart.

"Ring of fire," a nurse commented.

House grinned.

"Look at those shoulders," he said.

Bridget panted and pushed.

"I've got me mitt on, love," Frankland said. "Push that baby out!"

One last, horrible push and Cuddy's daughter issued forth into the world.

"Who's cutting the cord?" Frankland asked.

Cuddy took the scissors.

A few minutes later, cleaning, weighing and APGAR done, Cuddy was holding a little girl in her arms.

"Drugs," Bridget gasped.

House administered the morphine himself. Bridget took a few deep breaths and fell into blissful, painless rest.

"Do you-" Cuddy said, turning to Bridget.

"She's out," House said. "Doped her good."

"Why are you here, House?" Cuddy asked.

"Might not see any other progeny of mine born, thought I'd check it out."

"Right," Cuddy said as the nurse took the baby from her arms.

They both looked at Bridget, asleep in the bed.

"Stop looking at me," she said, not so asleep.

"She's beautiful," Cuddy said.

"I believe you. But could you get out so the nurses can take care of me now?"

Cuddy and House left quickly.

-

Bridget woke up in a different room, with Cuddy leaning over her.

"Lord, Lisa, put the twins away…"

Cuddy put a hand to the top of her blouse, then smiled.

"You did a wonderful job, Bridget."

"I feel like I was hit by a truck."

"Do you want to hold her?" Cuddy asked.

"For a minute."

Cuddy lifted the bundle from the hospital bassinette and placed the baby in Bridget's arms.

"She is pretty, Lisa. Keep her away from the boys," she said, smiling.

"Are you-"

"I'm sure. You've got a girl to raise, Lisa. You'll do a great job. Just let me rest."

Bridget stroked the little girl's head once and offered her back to her mother. Cuddy took her back and held her close.

"Thank you, Bridget."

-

Bridget slept for a day and a half, turning when the nurses came in to adjust her IV and offer her pain killers.

In the moments between waking and sleeping, she tried to eat, but found she had no appetite. She cried occasionally, but wrote it off as hormonal changes and tried not to think about it.

When she started crying every time she woke up, Cuddy called an adoption counselor to sit and chat with Bridget.

"It's just hormones," she said to the counselor. "I'll feel better once I get back to normal."

"You're not sad at all about giving up the baby?"

"I don't know what Cuddy told you-"

"Nothing," the woman said. "She just said you'd given a baby up for adoption and you needed someone to talk to."

Bridget sat in silence for a few moments.

"Not this one, but before, I gave a baby up for adoption. Or… I was going to.

"My boyfriend was driving us home from seeing his parents. We'd just explained to them what was happening. I was about 4 and a half months along, we'd just decided what to do."

She stopped and took a deep breath.

"He didn't want a child, and I didn't want to be a single parent, so I agreed to an adoption.

"We were hit by an oncoming van at an intersection, the baby aborted, I never carried her to term."

She looked at the counselor.

"That's what I'm sad about. I thought having this baby would help me resolve the pain I'd felt after the first baby died. Like I could prove I could do it, that it wasn't my fault or my body's.

"I was deluding myself. I didn't get pregnant then because I wanted to, I was never going to keep the baby, I wasn't meant to be a mother."

The counselor looked at her.

"You can still be a mother, if you decide to."

"But, I just did the same thing, but in a more calculated way. I was inseminated, I carried the baby to term. I looked at her, held her, and I didn't feel a thing."

"You knew from the beginning that you weren't having this baby for yourself. You shut down your feelings for her. Many women who plan to give their babies up for adoption do that, be they surrogates or just women with unplanned pregnancies."

"What if I can't turn the feelings back on?" Bridget whispered.

"I think that's something you need to work on from now until you get it resolved. I brought the card of a good post-partum therapist."

She handed Bridget the card.

"Between us, though, I think you'll work it out. If you give yourself a chance."

Bridget nodded and rolled over in the bed, tears filling her eyes.

-

Foreman showed up as Bridget was being discharged.

"Need a hand?" he asked.

She looked at him, exhausted.

"I'll take one," she said. "Could you grab my bag from the closet?"

He did and placed it on the bed.

"Are you okay?"

Bridget started putting her things in the bag.

"About pushing something the size of a watermelon out a hole the size of a lemon? Or giving the baby to Cuddy?"

He stopped her.

"Either. Both."

She took a deep breath.

"I'm tired and sore, but otherwise physically sound. And as for giving up the baby… She was always Cuddy's. I'm not torn."

"Your ova…"

"Just an egg, Foreman. She wanted a baby. I… assisted. I'm okay with it."

He shook his head.

"There's more to it."

"Stop pushing, Eric."

He was silent, but didn't move.

She didn't look at him.

"There are things you don't know."

"I get that," he said.

Bridget sat down on the edge of the bed, he joined her.

"There was a baby…"

-

Cuddy took 6 weeks off to bond with the baby. Bridget took 4 weeks off at home and 4 weeks of incredibly light duty. She also moved out of House's apartment and into her own.

Once she'd been back to work a couple of weeks, the gossip mill went back into full swing.

"The scoop is," House said, walking into the Diagnostics Lounge, "that I got you pregnant and made you give the baby up to Cuddy."

Bridget looked up from her laptop.

"Like you could force me to do anything," she snorted.

"I'm pretty sure they know it's not true, but they're enjoying the speculation."

"You couldn't force me to give up an Oreo, much less a baby."

Foreman, Chase and Cameron walked in.

"Well, it was fun catching up, but I have an Oracle to save," House said, heading for the children's ward.

"God of War is so 4 years ago," Bridget said to his back as he walked away. "Speaking of which, Foreman, you are aware you look like that guy in that Def Jam game, right?"

"I've heard that," he said, sitting down and pulling his files across the table.

Cameron looked squirrelly and said, "I have billing to do."

"That's what I'm here for," Bridget said.

"I'll do it myself," Cameron said and left.

"Whatever," Bridget breathed.

Chase sat for a moment then hopped up.

"Going to the clinic," he said and headed for the door.

"Right," Foreman said.

"Tell Cameron to keep the love marks below the collar," Bridget said.

Foreman laughed as Chase reddened and bolted for the door.

"So, Saturday night, Greek food and then a hockey game? You in?" he asked.

"Two of my favorite things," she replied, looking over at him.

"Make it three and I'll pay for the entire evening."

"Weren't you going to do that anyway?"

"I might."

"You sure do fish for attention a lot for a such a strong, independent black man."

"You put me off my game," he said.

"You have game?"

"Funny…" he said.

"No, seriously," she said, smiling at him. "You have game?"

Foreman closed the file and moved to the chair next to her. He put a hand on her chair, the other on the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss.

This was not one of the (semi) chaste kisses of the last months. Foreman's hands moved under her arms and pulled her onto his lap, not breaking the contact. His arms enveloped her, keeping her close. Bridget was drawn in, her hands moving from his head to his neck, finally gripping his shoulders as she tried frantically to control herself.

He kissed her like a man dying of thirst who was suddenly invited to a cool, sweet well. His tongue ran along her lower lip before entering her mouth in search of hers. The sensation set fireworks off in her brain, and she moaned a bit into his mouth.

When his hands went to her waist and his lips to her neck, she stopped him. Which was good, as House and Wilson were watching from the other side of the glass. House drank his coffee and smirked, looking incredibly interested and his friend stood there uncomfortably.

'I'm a moron,' she thought belatedly.

"Foreman's got game. You crumpled like a tissue," House said. "And… you can't give Cameron and Chase grief anymore."

House turned to Wilson as they walked away.

"He almost made it to second base… in the damn lounge. I haven't even gotten to second…"

Bridget looked at Foreman. She could feel the heat in his stare.

"Let's not wait for this weekend."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

-

This chapter is rated very mature for strong sexual content. If that is not your bag, baby, you may skip 3/4's of the way down. **Again- M for Mature.** Foreman gets some lovin'...

-

The work day could not end fast enough.

Bridget rushed home, showered and put on her pretties. She dressed in a loose, white cotton top and calf length skirt.

Before she knew it, Foreman was knocking at her door. She just looked at him as he stood in her doorway.

"I'm sorry," she said, "Come in."

He gathered her up in his arms, pushed the door shut and locked it. He urged her to hop up and held her thighs as she wrapped her legs around him. They were kissing slowly, but with a ferocity that had Bridget's heart pounding.

He eased her onto the couch, lips on her throat, hands on her hips, moving against her.

"Tell me what you want me to do," he said.

"Kiss me like you did at work," she said, breathless.

He traced her lips with the tip of his tongue and she tightened her legs around him. He smiled and kissed the corners of her mouth, urging her lips apart. She did and deepened the kiss, one hand going to his face, the other pulling his shirt from his pants.

Foreman moved back and let her remove the tie and shirt, then he moved her top up and off. He could see her pink, hard nipples under the fabric of the lace bra. He moved to her throat, laying kisses down her neck, moving between her breasts, lips grazing her cleavage.

But it stopped. He'd moved away.

Bridget opened her eyes and he was standing over her.

"Bedroom," he said.

She stood, shaky, and let him lead her. It was a short walk and she was on her back again, but now on the comfort of the bed.

Foreman kissed her everywhere; her breasts, stopping to nuzzle and lick, to her belly and hips. He moved her onto her stomach so he could kiss the back of her neck and shoulders.

"Eric," she moaned when his lips touched the sensitive skin and she felt his hardness through the fabric of his pants.

He blazed a trail down her spine, moving her hips up so he could remove the skirt. She flipped over so she could see him and reach for his belt.

"Wait," he said.

"For what?"

He moved her further up the bed, unhooking her bra and tossing it to the side, moving down her body. He kissed and sucked from her breasts to the joint of her legs. One-handed, he pulled the little swathe of lace off of her and urged her legs further apart.

He caressed her, fingers sliding like feathers at her opening, then venturing carefully inside. His lips joined his fingers, the point of his tongue finding her clit, making her gasp.

"Eric…"

She was heat in his hands, his mouth making her almost senseless. As he worked in her with is fingers and tongue, she moaned and cried out his name.

He moved her legs over his shoulders and buried his face between her legs, suction sudden and intense, his fingers thrusting inside her.

She called out his name, swearing as she bucked under his mouth and came. Then she felt him, his lips moving up her body, fingers slowly withdrawing.

"Eric," she gasped as his lips went to her neck and ears.

"Yes," he whispered and kissed her.

Bridget reached between them and unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants and pushed them along with his boxer briefs down his hips. She dug her fingertips into the flesh of his ass making him breathe deeply and move against her.

"I want you now," he said, pushing his clothes completely off.

"God, yes," she said. "What do you want me to do?"

He smiled at her, echoing his words, and ran a hand over her hair.

"I want to feel you tighten around me while I grind-"

She groaned at his words and pulled his face to hers, kissing him hard until he pushed her back.

"What?"

He moved to the pants on the floor, retrieving the condom.

"Oh."

He put it on and moved her legs around his hips.

"I want to be inside you right now."

"Do it, Eric. God, please…"

He made good on his promise, his thickness moving inside her, grinding slow, his lips on hers.

She couldn't touch him enough. She ran her hands over his head, caressed his face and neck. Felt the muscles in his arms tighten as he wrapped them around her, his back flex with each grind and thrust. She moved with him, finding a rhythm that sent chills from her center to every extremity.

Foreman thrust his arms under her back and held her tight, talking and groaning in her ear, telling her how hot and tight she was, how much he loved how she felt.

His words sent her over the edge and she came, his lips on her breast, his hands in her hair, still moving inside her.

She said his name thickly, nails in his back, letting the wave crash over and through her. She heard him say her name, felt his thrust quicken, his hands gripping her upper arms. He called out when he came, pushing inside her hard, then trying not to collapse on her.

They lay like that a long moment, the connection broken as he slowly withdrew, removing the condom and throwing it in the waste basket by her bed.

He rolled onto his side, keeping her in his arms, kissing her. She wrapped her arms around him, moving from his lips to the crook of his neck, inhaling him.

"I love the way you smell…"

"I love you…"

She was pulled out of her haze.

"God, Eric, I…"

"I can wait for it, Bridge."

They moved under the covers and fell asleep in each other's arms.

-

Early in the morning both Foreman's and Bridget's pagers went off simultaneously. As Bridget searched through her purse, Foreman dialed the call back number.

"Yeah?" he said when House answered.

"Coming to work?"

Bridget's pager continued to go off.

"Yes, House, I'm with Bridget, you can stop paging her."

The pager fell silent.

"Was that all?" Foreman asked. "Because we don't have to be to work for another hour."

"Really?" House said, trying to sound guileless. "I must have read that pesky clock wrong…"

"Hilarious, House," he said. "Good-bye."

Foreman turned to Bridget, who had laid back down, and joined her on the bed.

"You put clothes on," he said, nuzzling her neck.

"I can't sleep naked, it's weird."

"Is there a reason why my boxers and t-shirt look sexy on you?"

"Guy logic?"

He smiled at her, hands roaming her body. She stretched out on her back, giving him full access. He was on his side, one hand moving into the opening of the boxers, sliding his fingers along her opening and pressing his lips to her neck. He moved up, breathing in her ear as his fingers moved inside her.

She moaned and moved with his hand, then pushed it away, pulling him on top of her. She wriggled until she slid the boxers down.

"I don't want your fingers inside me…"

He moaned in her ear as she wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing his thick hardness against her heat. Foreman grabbed another condom, put it on and pulled her legs up until her ankles were resting on his shoulders.

He thrust into her fast and hard, making her tighten and say his name. She gripped his shoulders, clenching her teeth and swearing as he moved. Her heart raced as he talked to her, punctuating his thrusts with words. He asked if she liked it and she panted out a yes. He told her he was going to fuck her until she came and she yelled his name with each thrust, nails digging into his flesh.

Foreman held her to the bed by her hips, pounding into her. Bridget groaned loud when she came, then locked her lips with his, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, feeling him pulse inside her as he followed, saying her name.

She moved her legs and he laid by her side on the bed. They took their time getting their breath, coming down from the high.

He got his breath back.

"That was…"

"Explosive?" she offered.

"Yes."

She sighed.

"Eric…"

"Yeah?"

"Do we have to go to work?"

He groaned.

"I wish we didn't."

"Then we should shower. Separately. So that doesn't happen again."

She pushed herself off of the bed.

"I'm going to shower…"

"Leave the water on when you're done and I'll just jump in," he said, then kissed her as she got up.

She smiled and headed to the bathroom.

-

"Let me guess… Car accident on the freeway? Hit a large forest dwelling mammal?" House said as Foreman and Bridget entered the Diagnostic Lounge.

"Do we have a case?" Foreman asked, sitting down at the table.

Bridget moved to the other side of the table, opening her laptop and opening the summary program.

Cameron eyed her, smiling. Chase smirked at Foreman.

"So, you expect me to pretend I didn't see you two going at it in the lounge yesterday? And now you're both late for work. Foreman, you know me better than that," House said. He turned to Bridget. "Better than the turkey baster?"

Foreman clenched his fists and glared.

Bridget just smiled at House.

"Have you asked Cameron how it's working out with Chase? If he's hitting all the buttons and pulling the levers?"

House swung over to the other Fellows.

"Well, you have been going at it longer than these two…" House mused. "But, the truth of the matter is Cameron comes in looking ridiculously pleased and he's all surfer-boy tousled, so I'm guessing he hits the spot."

"It's none of your business, House," Foreman ground out.

Cameron and Chase chose that moment to exit.

Bridget looked over at Foreman, smiling sweetly at him.

"I don't look ridiculously pleased? Because when I looked in the mirror, that's what I saw," she said. "Foreman can't pull off surfer-boy tousled, but I imagine the look on his face when he walked in was revealing."

"All good points. I'll be off," House said, grabbing his cane and heading out the door.

"There's no patient?" Foreman said.

"Nope," House replied. "Just paperwork and clinic duty. Enjoy."

Foreman closed his eyes and shook his head.

"What would you have said if he pushed?" he asked.

She moved to a chair closer to him.

"How much would I have told him?"

Foreman nodded.

"Nothing," she said. "But if you want to know…"

Foreman edged closer. They were almost face to face.

"Might be good for my ego."

"So… You want to know linearly or by the most exciting thing that happened? There's also how many times the Lord was called upon. There's a scale from 1 to 10." She thought a minute. "What else? Comparisons to various food stuffs…"

"Whichever," he said, amused.

She stopped to think again.

"Have you ever had a 100 dollar chocolate truffle?" she asked.

"Can't say I have…"

"They're made by a woman in Pennsylvania. I got one for my birthday a couple years ago, I'll never forget it. It was rich, sweet, creamy and smooth with just the slightest tinge of bitterness. It melted on my tongue and made the synapses in the pleasure center of my brain light up like Christmas."

She took a deep breath, put a hand on his thigh and moved it up to his hip. He looked at her expectantly.

"You're better than a boxful of 100 dollar truffles."

They were seconds from kissing when there was a knock on the glass. They looked over.

"House," Foreman said irritably, then looked at Bridget. "What are the chances that he didn't hear that?"

She shrugged.

"Doesn't matter."

"Do I need to get the hose?" House said from the other side of the glass.

Bridget smiled.

"I'll see you at lunch."

Foreman ran a finger across her jaw and left.


	7. Chapter 7 and Epilogue

Chapter 7 and Epilogue

-

Cuddy called Bridget and asked her to stop by her office at some point that day. Bridget decided to go and get it over with.

"How are you doing?" Cuddy asked as the other woman sat down.

"Fine."

Cuddy eyed her questioningly.

"I've been seeing the counselor and working on my issues. I'm going to be okay," Bridget said sincerely.

"I want to…" cuddy said, looking upset. "I want to keep thanking you, but I don't want to-"

"You've thanked me enough, Lisa. Just take good care of her."

"I've named her," Cuddy said.

"I thought you might," Bridget smirked.

Finally Cuddy smiled.

"I named her Orah."

"That's beautiful, Lisa," Bridget said.

"House will make some joke…"

"He always does," Bridget said.

Cuddy looked off to the left and then back at Bridget.

"So… Foreman, huh?"

Bridge let out a breath.

"I know… I know. It was unprofessional to make out in the office. It was just this spur of the moment thing…"

Cuddy's eyes went wide.

Bridget blanched.

"You didn't know?"

Cuddy shook her head.

"But now all the chatter at the nurse's station in the clinic makes sense."

"What chatter?"

"That House lost his girlfriend."

Bridget shook her head.

"Sometimes you want to correct them and sometimes it's just not worth it."

"I wouldn't worry about it. I hear your boss likes you a lot."

Bridge smiled.

"But seriously, try to keep it in the supply closet like Chase and Cameron."

"That's just wrong…"

Cuddy smirked.

"From the woman who made out with a doctor in a glass office."

Bridget stood up, still smiling.

"I'm going to go do some work, I think."

"Later," Cuddy called as Bridget headed out.

-

Epilogue

-

Orah Cuddy was 14 years old. She was an only child, but not alone. Her mother's co-workers were an especially tight knit group, even though House liked to pretend otherwise.

Cameron and Chase married briefly and produced Jenna, who was just 3 years younger than Orah. They divorced amicably enough and shared custody, though Chase took a job at another hospital. Neither of them would say what specifically brought on the split. When pressed, Cameron would say something about it just not working out.

Wilson remained a bachelor, with the occasional girlfriend, after Amber's death. House was the same, prompting the odd gay joke. The staff was unaware that Cuddy had dropped the pretenses with House a month after Orah was born and they'd been 'together' in a non-specific way ever since.

Orah just called him House and he'd called her turkey baster. Cuddy put an end to that before Orah was old enough to get the meaning.

That left Bridget and Foreman. They had a son, Michael, that was about 11 months younger than Orah. And despite the brown skin and other racial differences, after a while, Orah saw similarities between herself and Michael.

By 14 Orah knew House was her biological father, she also knew the woman who raised her was not her biological mother, though Cuddy wouldn't discuss it. But after spending as much time as she did with Michael, Orah started looking at Bridget.

Foreman and Bridget also had Soraya, 8, and Corina, 4. And if Orah squinted hard, she could almost make out a family resemblance with them as well.

Finally, the day came. Orah turned 15 and felt grown enough to approach Bridget, who she was sure was her biological mother.

In fact, those were the first words out of Orah's mouth when Bridget opened the door. Bridget dropped the plate in her hand and then went into Mom-mode. Ushering Orah around the shards and cleaning it up before little feet could possibly get hurt.

"What's your logic?" Bridget asked, finally seated on the couch with the girl.

"Observation," Orah said. "Michael and I have a some family resemblance. One that might be more noticeable if you didn't like the chocolate."

"You need to stop paying so much attention to House…" Bridget said.

"The chocolate comment? Because that was all I got from him. He's conspicuously closed mouthed on the subject of my biological mother. And you know him, he lays everyone's shit bare."

"Orah…"

"Sorry about the language. I just couldn't think of anything more apt."

"Not about your choice of words… And your vocabulary? Creepy for a fifteen year old."

"I have good genes," Orah said.

"Please tell me you don't say that in front of House…"

"I know you're my biological mother. We have facial similarities, we're almost the same body shape. Or will have when I'm grown. Despite the fact that Michael is the closest to my age and one of the coolest guys I know, you and Mom actively keep us from…"

"Enough… Thank you, Orah. Have you talked to Lisa about your suspicions?"

"I don't want to upset her. And I don't want to announce it to the world. I just want to hear you say the words. I want to know for sure. In the long run, it doesn't matter. I have a mom, a great mom. Just… say the words."

Bridget stared into her lap for a few minutes and then looked into Orah's eyes.

"It's not particularly shameful… We just… We wanted it to be-" Bridget stopped. "I wanted it to be a clean break. I was still going through… things that I can't even explain to you. Not because of your age, but because of how personal they still are to me. We just agreed to not tell you. Then we just kept not telling you.

"We should have known better. If you had an ounce of our curiosity and perseverance you would have figured it out eventually. I just didn't think it would be so soon."

Orah took a deep breath.

"Please… It doesn't change anything. My mom is still my mom. Just-"

"I'm your biological mother. My egg, House's sperm, and then there was Orah."

The two sat silently for a long moment.

"Is it enough for you? Are you going to talk to Lisa about it?"

The girl just shrugged.

"I don't want to hurt-"

"You won't hurt her feelings. She wasn't worried about keeping it to ourselves in the first place."

Bridget paused, then smiled.

"And you can't date Michael, he's your half brother," she said.

Orah stood.

"I'm going to go talk to my mom."

Bridget stood and followed her to the door.

"Tell her you lover her first, always softens her up," Bridget said.

Orah smiled and left.


End file.
